the print vanished, Fields telephoned May, who was in New York, and urged her to give the editing staff the day oft; and he told her to ask no questions and leave town for the day. Then, just about the time that the print went missing, Fields, who was also in N ew York, got on a plane back to Los Angeles. The studio charged that Fields and May were in contempt of the court order, but any delay meant added expense, and Fields made an offer: If the negative were to reappear, and May was allowed to make her final cut, perhaps the stu- dio would drop the case? As for what actually happened, Fields says, "I will not go into who did what." May says, "He was what you always thought Perry Mason was. He did everything, and he did it without pay because I had no money. I paid him, finally, a year later, but he didn't know I would." The director Mike Nichols speaks of Fields as if he represented the dispos- sessed: "Here's why so many people love Bert. He took the side of Elaine versus a gigantic studio. Unlike a lot of people in Hollywood, he chose Elaine. She had nothing but her talent-and being very cute! He has often been a champion of the weaker. He's not in the back pocket of the studios or anyone." F ields says that most of the cases and even ts depicted in his novels are true. In "The Lawyer' s Tale," published in 1992, Harry Cain's wife dies of can- cer. Lydia-Fields's "soul mate," as his son describes her-had died of lung can- cer in 1986. For nearly two years, Fields was consumed by the effort to save her life. Ovitz, who was the chairman of the board of the U.C.L.A. Medical Center, persuaded the dean of the medical school to oversee Lydià s treatment. Fields re- calls that his friend and client Warren Beatty, a famous hypochondriac and amateur medical expert, became like "another doctor." Fields still keeps Lyd- ià s ashes and photographs of her at an apartment he has in West Hollywood Hills. For the next five years, Fields spent much of his free time with Beatty, who was not then married. "Warren did something for Bert none of us with fam- ilies could do," Ovitz says. "He hung out with him." Ovitz had tried to set up Fields with his close friend Barbara ß!) (1GLt / "Some fresh-ground soot for your salad, sir?" . Guggenheim, who had worked as an art consultant for Ovitz and for Hollywood clients like Ray Stark, Candy and Aaron Spelling, and Sylvester Stallone. Fields, who disliked blind dates, didn't call her, but business brought them together in 1989, when Stallone sued Guggenheim, for five million dollars, for urging him to buy a painting by the nineteenth- century French artist William-Adolphe Bouguereau that he later contended had been damaged and restored. Guggen- heim, a slim, tall woman who has silver- gray hair pulled back in a ponytail, had dated a succession of men but never married. She met Fields in N ew York in January, 1990, and they were married in 1991. Like Lydia, Barbara became her husband's sole confidante. "Bert's not close to anyone particularly," Guggen- heim told me. "He's always more com- fortable talking to me than to men about personal stuff. He's not interested in golfing with the boys or taking white- water-rafting trips." She says that she understands why he still cries when he thinks about his second wife, and why he keeps her ashes. "He wouldn't have been who he is without her," she says and adds, with a smile, "He's a well- trained husband. I'm grateful." The Stallone lawsuit was settled soon after . Fields let it be known that the actor would face a brutal cross-examination- with the implication that it would em- barrass Stallone. "She didn't pay a dime!" Fields told me. Fields and Guggenheim have five homes-in L.A., New York, Mexico, and France. Some old friends believe that Fields became more status-conscious after he met Guggenheim. They point to the Bentley Arnage, which cost almost a quarter of a million dollars; to the fact that both have had cosmetic surgery; and to their posing in formal dress on the beach in Malibu for a 1993 profile in Vanity F air. (Two muscular young men hold a golden frame, and in the center of the frame Bert is dropping to one knee and kissing Barbara's hand.) Fields's office contains no trophies from past bat- tles, no autographed pictures from celeb- rity clients, but his novels burst with self- satisfaction. In "Final Verdict," his first novel, a grateful client says about Harry Cain, "Harry, I'll never forget it, never forget what you've done for me. Fucking, stinking genius, the greatest fucking ge- nius in the world. You can take your Ed fucking Williams and your Mel fucking Belli and shove 'em." James Fields, who is a senior manag- ing director at the Blackstone Group in THE NEW YORKER, JULY 24, 2006 45